


The Story of Dunwall

by castielanie



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanie/pseuds/castielanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A literary retelling of the events of the Dishonored main campaign, featuring a method of storytelling more kind to a timeline. The gaps between missions will be filled with events in line with canonverse, and actions more harmonious to video game prospects will be rewritten in a way to make them more logical to a literary sense (i.e. purchasing Outsider abilities will be written into an actual encounter with the Outsider). Currently in progress. (May also write TKoD and TBW, but this is to be decided. Would be a different fic.)</p>
<p>COPYRIGHT: I obviously don't own anything. All rights belong to Bethesda Softworks and Arkane Studios.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of Dunwall

 

“Corvo, if only there was someone else I trusted to send, so that you could remain near– but there is no one else, and the Spymaster was right to insist that I send you. The plague has taken so many, and we must find a cure. When you are near, my heart is at peace. Emily and I will count the days until you return.

Hurry home, and bring good news.

Love, Jessamine.”

* * *

 

**NINETEENTH DAY IN THE MONTH OF EARTH, 1687**

The sun showered bright streams of light on the Wrenhaven River that day, making the air sticky and humid unlike the usual windy days of the southern coast of Gristol. Corvo could feel sweat start to pool on the top of his shoulders underneath his thick uniform, and his chest felt tight as he took a breath. As he stepped down into the small riverboat from the ship that departed from Serkonos, Corvo met the eyes of the two City Watchmen on board. He took his sword hilt in his left hand and held it close to him.

“Steady hand, that’s it.” The boat sank down into the water, and the engine kicked. “Casting off! We’re away,” the Watchman announced. “Take us straight to Dunwall Tower. Lord Corvo has news for the Empress and we’ve come a long way.” Corvo took a seat on a ledge behind the guards and gazed out at the water as they glided towards the Tower. He listened to the sound of the waves the boat made, and the constant rumble of its engine, and the mumbled conversation of the boatman and his counterpart, but the only thing on his mind was how apparent his heartbeat was now that he was on his way to see Jessamine.

“A long way to bring bad news. The sailors say there’s a curse on us. Black magic!” complained the Watchman piloting the boat.

“Superstition. For all we know, there’s a cure for the plague by now.” Corvo grimaced.

“Maybe. We live in strange times. Sending the Empress’ bodyguard away for a couple of months? That’s unusual.”

“Well, that was important. We need help with the rat plague,” said the standing guard. The boatman stared at him for a few moments, then returned to piloting the boat as they coasted into the waterlock.

“Ho there! We’re going up.” An engineer shouted protocol from the top of the waterlock, and the channel began to fill as waterfalls spouted from pipes along either side. When the boat came to a stop at the crest, Corvo nodded to the watchmen and stepped onto the engineering floor, and he heard quick footsteps on the other side of the bridge leading to the tower grounds.

“Corvo, you’re back!” Emily, a small girl of only ten dressed in white, ran into Corvo’s arms and hugged him as he swung her into the air. “Will you tell me about your trip, please? Were there any whales?” Corvo began to shake his head, but the girl placed her hands on her hips and made a face all too much like her mother’s.  “You’ve got time to tell me! Mother’s busy talking to that nasty old Spymaster.”

Corvo smiled, but told Emily it would be a long tale and that he would tell her tonight at dinner. She frowned, but agreed, and walked ahead of him to where a painter stood working on a portrait of a broad man in red, posing across from him.

“Welcome home, Lord Protector– from wherever you’ve been. And stop moving, Campbell,” said the gruff-voiced painter, nodding his palette behind him. “They sent him all around the Isles to beg for aid. A waste of time,” he chastised. “My elixir will banish the plague from this city. Now keep still a moment, High Overseer Campbell.” The man in red wrinkled his nose, earning a glare from the painter. How much longer must these arrogant choffers stay on the grounds, Corvo thought to himself. He hoped not much longer.

He left the men to their tasks and walked past a few more guards to a large stone gazebo that sat just behind the battlements of the courtyard. Jessamine stood underneath its roof in her normal dark dress, a thin white collar covering her neck under the knot where she held her black hair. Corvo’s heart reeled as he saw his Empress once again, after months of being separated. He itched to be inside the tower already, out of this staggering heat, to dine in Dunwall Tower once again, and to wish Lady Emily a good night’s rest; and to, for once, have a glass of whiskey with Jessamine Kaldwin instead of the Empress of the Isles. He smiled and held his hands behind him.

She still spoke, arms crossed, to the Royal Spymaster, Hiram Burrows: a bald man dressed in even thicker, finer clothes than Corvo and whose posture was as rigid and statuesque as the stick shoved up into him further than Corvo wanted to imagine. They both sounded as irritated as they appeared.

“They’re sick people, not criminals!” Jessamine said sternly.

“We’ve gone beyond that question, Your Majesty. They’re–”

“They’re my citizens, and we will save them from the plague if we can. All of them.” Burrows reluctantly nodded, and the Empress shot him one final glare. “We will not speak of this again.”

“Mother, Corvo is back!” Emily announced as her mother turned away from the Spymaster. Jessmine thanked her, and dismissed Burrows, who walked out of the gazebo and met the Lord Protector’s eyes.

“Corvo! Two days early. Full of surprises, as usual.” Corvo remained silent. Burrows walked out of the courtyard and out of sight.

“It’s a fair wind that brings you home to me. What news have you brought?” Corvo handed her a letter, which she read with disappointment as her eyes travelled further down the page. She sighed and dropped the letter to her feet. “I hoped one of the other cities had dealt with this before, knew of some cure. This news is very bad. We’re at the breaking point.” She stared out across the river, following clouds of blue smoke that rose from smokestacks in the distillery district. “Cowards. They’re going to blockade us. They’ll wait to see if the plague turns the city into a graveyard.”

“Are you okay, Mother? You seem sad.” Emily sounded worried, and Corvo wished he could comfort his Empress the way that he always had, but he could not in the company of others. She reassured Emily, and smiled as she brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, but she immediately noticed the empty courtyard and furrowed her brow. “Wait, where are the guards? Who sent them away?”

Corvo’s heart began to thump again, loud in his ears, and Emily pointed towards the roof of the waterlock. “Mother, look! What are they doing on the rooftop?” Corvo’s hand shot to his sword hilt, and he turned to where she pointed. Three men ran along the waterlock, evaporating impossibly into thin air and reappearing closer and closer as Jessamine took Emily close to her. Two of the men, now that he could tell, in industrial gas masks and hoods, appeared in front of him and attacked.

They teleported effortlessly around the courtyard and Corvo could not keep track of them easily; but he swung his sword and swung strong when they did remain. When he stuck one of the assassins clean through his torso, Corvo expected him to bleed, but the man simply dissolved into the air, and the same with the second. He prevailed, however, and he waited a few breathless, still moments before he turned back to them. Emily fell into Corvo’s arms and hugged him again as he looked up at Jessamine.

“Corvo, thank you. If you hadn’t been here…” Corvo’s heart would not quiet until the light around him went blurry, and he only had enough time to look where another assassin stood with his hands up, emitting green light that pulled Corvo into the air. He could not move, and he could barely breathe.

A older man in red emerged from cloud of static next to the assassin, and lunged for the Empress, who pushed Emily away and dug her nails into the neck of her attacker. Wincing, he slapped her across her face, and clamped a gloved hand around her throat. The man reared his sword back as he pushed her against the battlement, and Corvo watched as the assassin dug his sword into Jessamine’s chest.

Another man appeared and grabbed Emily, whisking her away into the Void just as quickly. Then, he met the eyes of the man who killed his Empress before he disappeared, and he was left with Jessamine as she bled out onto the white concrete. He would remember that face, with scars the shape of rotting leviathans and eyes that held the Void. He could not forget it.

“Corvo, it’s all… coming apart. F… find Emily. Protect her. You’re the only one… you’ll know what to do, won’t you? Corvo…” Jessamine went limp in his arms, and Corvo began to shake. His sword lay across the courtyard and his hands were sticky with the wet, warm blood he dreaded ever seeing as the Royal Protector. He held Jessamine’s body close to him, staining his black clothes an even darker black, and between his tremors he heard quick, heavy footsteps. When he looked up, his heart’s pounding finally stopped as he met the eyes of the Spymaster, the High Overseer, and the blades of two swords put on him by the Watchmen.  

“Ward us all, look at what he’s done!”

“Yes! He’s killed the Empress!” Burrows looked around innocently, and pointed at Corvo. “What did you do with the young lady Emily, traitor?”

“Their own bodyguard. Ironic.”

“I’ll see you beheaded for this, Corvo. Take him!”

He could only shiver, a green tint still remaining in his eyes and the ringing in his ears getting no softer. Was this what being part of Isle Royalty meant? Was this what Corvo was supposed to prepare for? To prevent? He saw no way how.

His hands were still warm, yet he felt cold, and he still shook too much to say a word. The last thing he saw was the hilt of a sword, drove into his eye socket, and the light went away for a very, very long time.

 

* * *

 

**FOURTH DAY IN THE MONTH OF SEEDS, 1687**

 

When Corvo awoke, it was to a ripping pain on his collarbone and the smell of burning flesh filling the interrogation room of Coldridge. He yelled, and his head rolled back as the torturer placed the white hot stoker back into the coals. The words “Order Shall Prevail” branded the ceiling where his eyes fell.

As the pain faded but never disappeared, the daunting firelight returned to his eyes, and he looked down at his hands to find them in shackles. Campbell stood in front of him, his arms crossed and a pistol strapped to his chest. “This is your final chance, Corvo. Sign the confession and let me give them the rights to put your spirit at ease.” The torturer rose the stoker to Corvo again and seared the side of his neck. Corvo’s hands balled into fists and adrenaline filled his veins. It dulled the pain of the burns by making his head cloud with bloodrush, but not by much.

“That’s enough for now. Get out,” said Burrows, as he stepped from in front of the large mural of himself that hung on the wall. “Let’s give the man some time, to think.” He nodded to the torturer, and he walked out, stoker in hand.

“Corvo, the Empress is dead, her daughter Emily is hidden away...“ Burrows hid a small grin under a wrinkled face. “And no one will ever know the truth.”

Campbell stepped forward and leaned in towards Corvo. “Yes, unlucky you. Tomorrow, you’ll be executed, but it’s for a good cause! This country needs strong leadership now, someone to guide the weak, and that’s where we come in.”

“There was nothing personal in this, even though you almost sank our plans. But it turned out well. You were in the wrong place at the right time. And someone has to take the fall.” Burrows’ nose was so close to his face he could have bitten it off, and it was tempting. Corvo almost spat in his eye, but could not move the muscles in his throat without intense pain from the torturer’s brand. “Goodbye, Corvo. Guards! Take him back to his cell.” Campbell stepped beside him, and delivered a quick blow from the stock of his pistol. The firelight faded.

 

* * *

 

**FOURTH NIGHT IN THE MONTH OF SEEDS, 1687**

Corvo lay shirtless on the cold, damp concrete of the inside of his cell, his head pounding from hunger and thirst and flashbacks of what happened outside Dunwall Tower that hot, sticky day. The tiny crack in the wall shone no light, and whale oil lamps lit only enough of the corridor to tell where his cell door began. He could often not keep his eyes open, and when he could, they burned from the grime on his face and the grease in his long-since-washed hair.

“My dear Corvo…” He jerked up and looked in the direction the voice, only to meet the silhouette of a young man, holding onto the bars of his cell. His voice was soft, and dark, yet it resonated like an earthquake in his ears. “What a sad hand Fate has dealt you,” he tilted his head and met Corvo’s eyes, yet he could only feel his gaze.

“The beloved Empress dead, and everyone thinks you’re the killer. But we know what really happened, don’t we?” Corvo blinked, and the voice began to come from next to him inside his cell. The lamp lit only the side of his face, and Corvo could tell he was no more than a boy. He looked to be in his twenties, maybe earlier, and his skin was as bare and as pale as whalebone. He still could not see his eyes.

“You don’t want to end your life to the sound of idiots, cheering, as your head hits the muck, do you?” The man grinned. “Let’s see if we can do better.” The man vanished, but the voice remained. “We will meet again, soon.”

Then, Corvo was alone.

 

 


End file.
